


more is more

by notwest



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Caring Dave, Comfort, Earth C (Homestuck), Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, There's no hint of plot it's just indulgent fluffy smut, [Light] Somnophilia, needy karkat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 00:05:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18927268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notwest/pseuds/notwest
Summary: It's like Dave has said many times before, he can't read minds when it comes to this stuff. Or any stuff. Karkat has to ask for what he needs.





	more is more

It's just past two in the morning when Karkat wakes up, uncomfortably warm and itchy in his own skin. He must have kicked off the blankets in his sleep too, because his legs are bare and the thin cotton of his boxers is damp and clinging to his thighs. He continues to blink his way into full consciousness, slowly starting to take in the separate elements that fill his senses—the sounds of late night traffic, the steady rise and fall of the rounded, Dave sized bundle directly to his left.

And lastly, the uncomfortable itching heat that's started localizing to a distinct point between his legs.

_Oh no._

Karkat forces his eyes shut and turns onto his side, digging his face stubbornly into the pillow and his mind similarly into denial, as the sensation in his groin gradually amps up from slight discomfort to a pulsing and empty ache.

Finally Karkat curses and slides off the bed, his mind still hazy. He waddles to the bathroom, resigned to shamefully touching himself while sitting on the lip of the bathtub.

Once he's sure Dave is still asleep and the bathroom door is securely locked, Karkat seats himself on the the inside of the tub. Yawning, he rubs at his eyes with one hand while stroking the swollen lips of his nook with the other to relieve some of the pressure. He’s tired, and his motions are mostly perfunctory at first but the languid movements of his fingers inevitably translate into pleasurable sensations that leave his fingers coming away wetter and wetter with genetic material. Of course, that's when the fantasies of Dave filter into his thinkpan, Dave who's sleeping peacefully in the other room, unaware as of yet that Karkat is about to become the most annoyingly needy troll on the face of the planet. Again.

Karkat sighs when his bulge unsheathes, letting it wind around his hand while imagining Dave was doing this to him instead. Despite the slight indulgence, this isn't a typical session where he would tease himself and draw things out; he sets a rhythm that's fast and hard, just wanting to get back to sleep. His efforts are paid off when he finally comes, the fingers of one hand curled tight around the edge of the tub and slurry rushing down the drain. Karkat takes the opportunity to rinse himself off with the shower-head before he trundles back to bed, repositioning himself against Dave's backside and eagerly sinking back into the warmth and early morning as easily as if he hadn't gotten up at all.

This lasts a blissful twenty minutes, after which Karkat wakes up again to feel his nook clenching needily and nearly cries. During heat, the downtime while a troll's genebladder refills itself can technically be anywhere between a few minutes and a few hours, depending on just how much it was emptied previously. He knows this from scrupulous research, and also from the first time he went through a heat cycle last year. With Dave's help, he'd averaged at least a few hours between cycles and that was bad enough. He’d still spent a full week out of commission, barely able to leave bed for being a pitifully weak and needy, whining mess.

If only he could somehow convey to his body that Alternia as he knew it no longer exists, and there are no imperial drones to supply his slurry, which is diseased any-fucking-way. On Earth-C supplying genetic material is completely voluntary, considering they weren't in the business of sending battalions of adult trolls out into space to conquer the galaxy planet by planet.

It's useless to fixate on things that can't be changed but he does it anyway, until it's encroaching ten in the morning and he's counted twelve trips to the bathroom and two hours of sleep total. Karkat fidgets under the blankets, not wanting to get up _again,_ even though his entire bottom half has devolved into a bottomless pit of need. Which is despairingly at odds with the fact that an entire night of persistent and admittedly not gentle rubbing on his most sensitive areas has caused touching himself to become almost painful.

He grits his teeth against the burning feeling between his legs and closes his eyes, breathing deep. Dave snores lightly beside him and he's barely able to contain his jealousy. He wants so badly to also be asleep too, or at least for Dave to be awake to use that soft human tongue and stiff bulge on him—anything to get more than a few minutes of reprieve.  

Except Karkat doesn't want that. His dysfunctional bulge is just telling his equally as dysfunctional thinkpan that he wants that. Dave shouldn’t be forced to miss sleep because of this. He just has to make it through today. The first day is always the worst, and everything else will be completely manageable if he can just keep to himself for twelve more hours. Which means not bothering Dave.

So he lays there stubbornly as fiery discomfort encases his body, he clenches his fists until his claws threaten to pierce the skin, until pitiful whines are tugging at the sides of his mouth and his eyes are threatening to spill over with tears. Okay fuck, what a stupid idea. He _has_ to get up and take care of this but he's still so so, so sore, and the idea of touching anywhere below his waist makes Karkat wince. A smug, inner voice tells him he shouldn't have been so hard on himself, and now he's paying the price.

Still unmoving, Karkat shivers until tears are officially spilling down his cheeks while he stares forlornly at the back of Dave's head like a helpless wiggler. He wishes stupidly that Dave could somehow sense Karkat needs him, but that's obviously not fucking possible. It's like Dave has said many times before, he can't read minds when it comes to this stuff. Or any stuff. Karkat has to ask for what he needs.

Okay. He can do this. After all, it's not like they haven't been through this once already, and Dave hadn’t minded helping out. In fact, if Karkat is remembering correctly, he'd been downright embarrassingly enthusiastic. He then curses himself for remembering correctly, because now Karkat's bulge is teasing at his nooksheath and shifting against his globes, triggered by the memories of Dave lying between his legs or pressing himself to Karkat's side to touch and kiss him sweetly until he was crying out into Dave's mouth.

Wetness is seeping down Karkat's thighs and onto the mattress and he realizes in that moment that he was a moron for thinking he could somehow avoid Dave finding out. And doubly a moron for waiting this long to ask for help. None of this knowledge stops Karkat's bloodpusher from hammering against his chest as he puts one trembling hand on Dave's shoulder. He rests it there at first, before squeezing a little and rocking Dave softly until he lets out a small moan and rolls around, yawning.

Dave's small, sleepy smile instantly replaces itself with wide-eyed panic as he bolts upright in bed. Karkat starts panicking too at Dave's reaction until he remembers that oh yeah, he's crying.

"Karkat, what's wrong?" Dave asks quietly but urgently.

Karkat sniffles pathetically and rubs at his face before answering. The small action allows him to break eye contact with Dave so of course, he shamefully indulges.

"It's— _fuck,_ it’s my…"

Karkat can't say it. The word sticks like a fly in his throat, caught in a web somewhere between self hatred and complete embarrassment. Finally Karkat has enough sense to lift the blanket to expose the situation between his legs. Dave takes in the red stain on the bed, his eyebrows closing in on each other before lifting in recognition.

"Oh, this is that, that heat thing, right? Shit, does it hurt?" He looks so concerned; affection rises in Karkat's chest like a ten foot wave. More tears are spilling down his cheeks now because he doesn't deserve someone like Dave, Karkat doesn't deserve someone so good when he's so… Not.

Dave scoots closer on the bed, his hands outstretched and Karkat shakes his head, trying to stop fucking crying.

"Not exactly, I just need…"

Dave gets one hand on Karkat's face and one on his thigh, and Karkat forces himself to look up into his eyes.

"I need to come," he says, very quietly. His nook pulses hotly at the reminder, having been temporarily muted out due to Karkat's total emotional meltdown.

Dave smiles a little at that even though his eyes still look concerned. He speaks to Karkat in a voice that's soft and melodious. "Well Mr. V, you're in luck, because I happen to be a dedicated academic on that particular subject. In fact, I take expeditions every weekend, I'm out there collecting samples, conducting experiments making hypotheses, you name it. I'm working on my graduate thesis right now—"

"Dave," Karkat begs, even though he's smiling a little too, despite the extreme discomfort. "Please." Dave stops talking immediately and throws a hand over Karkat's bare midriff. His eyes roll back a little when he touches the skin there; Karkat's running hotter than usual right now and he knows how much Dave loves the heat.

"Oh Karkat," Dave coos, "Dude, you feel like a deluxe hot water bottle."

He sidles a little closer, snaking one hand beneath the band of Karkat's underwear and running a finger up the slit of his nook. Karkat shivers, crying out at just that, and Dave uses his other hand to pap his cheek gently. God damn quadrant smearing bastard. Karkat loves him.

Karkat gasps as a fingertip brushes against his bulge and it rushes out into Dave's palm.

"Ah, there we are," Dave says. His soft human fingers can do what Karkat's can't—strokes it gently while Karkat rocks into his touch and whines into his neck.

Dave parts his legs so he can get close enough to put an arm around Karkat's back. The hand on his bulge keeps it's pace as slow and steady as a god damn metronome; Karkat can't do anything but slump into Dave's chest while the tension bleeds out of him and then rebuilds so slowly Karkat that doesn't even realize he's about to come until he is, whimpering and crying as a rush of slurry completely soaks his underwear. Dave strokes him through it, talking softly in his ear until Karkat goes boneless in his arms; he's out of breath, completely spent, and one hundred percent resigned to laying in his own filth. Karkat lets himself be pulled down to the bed, and and Dave immediately snuggles into his side, lifting his head and leaning in until their mouths connect. The kiss is closed mouthed and soft, and it makes Karkat's chest twinge with red feelings.

"You good?" Dave asks and Karkat just nods, beyond words.

"Good." Dave shifts, curling his body, and Karkat sees him palming at his own underwear. "So hot," he says, low enough that it was probably to himself. Dave pulls out his bulge and starts stroking himself slowly with his face pressed to Karkat's neck, his hand still covered in a wet sheen of pink that warms Karkat's face.

Karkat's so relaxed now that he doesn't even stay awake until Dave finishes. He lets go, sinking into the feeling until his mind drifts away.

Dave is gone when Karkat wakes up. There are two folded towels where his body used to be, and a glass of water on the bedside table. Karkat's eyes fill with tears. Again. He's so pathetic, why can't he take care of himself? And to top it all off, he can already feel the dull ache in his groin that he knows will intensify with every minute that goes by. He sits up to drink most of the water in a couple of gulps then lies back down, feeling worn out and weak.

Without the energy to get up or to even call out for Dave, Karkat just lies in bed trying to reign in his own self-flagellation. The only indication that time is passing by is the steady uptick of his own arousal.

Dave had been in the kitchen making breakfast apparently, a fact that becomes evident when he enters the bedroom still only wearing his boxers and carrying a plate of food. Karkat immediately whines at him, twisting a little from where he's planted himself face down on the bed. Dave tsks.

"I hope you know that I won't be playing hide the sausage with you until I see you hide _this_ sausage. In your mouth hole."

He holds up a fork speared with an unappetizing, brown and shriveled sausage. Karkat has to suppress a gag. Unsurprisingly, eating is not at the forefront of his mind right now. He rubs his thighs together needily and pouts in a way that would be so extremely embarrassing if he wasn't way too out of it to care.

Dave meets Karkat's eyes, and he's not wearing his sunglasses so Karkat can see the challenge there when he offers the sausage again and says, "Come on, eat." This time it's an order, not a suggestion.

And god help him, it sends a pulse of heat straight to Karkat's nook.

"Fine," Karkat grumbles, slowly gathering himself into a sitting position on the bed. He winces as he brushes against damp parts of the bed that have cooled. Dave takes a seat beside Karkat and insists on feeding him little bites of food. He takes some for himself about every third bite or so, and Karkat shamelessly stares at his lips as they slide off the fork, his own mouth slightly parted.

Dave laughs a bit and his cheeks turn pink when he realizes, but he still persists in his mission. Mostly fueled by lust, Karkat humors him—he gets through an entire sausage, several bites of toast and another full glass of water before he pushes Dave's arms away.   

Dave doesn't protest like Karkat was expecting; he just puts the plate to the side and kisses Karkat wetly on the cheek. "Good 'Kat," he purrs, his voice dipping an entire octave and it's stupid but it makes Karkat's breath catch in his windpipe, his hips grinding tiny circles into the bed. "Now tell papa Dave where you want him."

It's telling that Karkat doesn't even cringe at Dave's typical, horrifying turns of speech, his mind too busy buzzing with the anxiety of having to ask for what he wants. His face heats up just thinking about it, and he just knows it's turning a hideous red. Dave only looks at Karkat, waiting.

Karkat makes himself take a deep breath, and then the words are out. "Will you... lick me?"

Dave's entire face lights up, and why is he so depraved Karkat will never understand but he does know with certainty how good it feels. He's so lost in desire that having Dave's mouth on him right now sounds like human heaven.

"Oh hell yes," Dave says, "I didn't know breakfast came with desert but I am so fucking glad I saved some room because I am about to go to _town._ I hope you bought your tickets in advance because we're going express on this baby, all aboard!"

He presses a quick kiss to Karkat's lips before getting off the bed to put the plate aside. He almost immediately leaps back on, knocking the towels to the ground. Karkat's still wearing his soiled underwear and it's so embarrassing but Dave laughs brightly while peeling it down his legs. Karkat's stuck wondering for a second how the hell he got so lucky with Dave, because he knows this cannot be in anyway nice or pleasant or good tasting or comfortable or— _oh._

The thoughts scatter like struck bowling pins when Dave spreads Karkat's thighs and shoulders his way in between them, looking at him with that huge smile. Karkat throws his head back, avoiding eye contact because holy shit it's so much right now and he can't take it.

Two hands smooth up Karkat's stomach, making a tremor go through his body. "I love you," he hears Dave whisper.

Karkat lifts his head, trying not to buck his hips into Dave's face before he's even begun. "I love you too," he manages.

Dave looks back up at Karkat and snorts.

"I wasn't talking to _you,"_ he says, and then nods toward Karkat's crotch, "I was talking to my BFF down here." And before Karkat can try and fail to muster up an indignant response Dave dips his head down and drags his tongue slowly up the seam of Karkat's nooksheath. It's swollen and hypersensitive already, and Karkat lets out a long, broken moan, thighs jerking, as Dave lathes it with the wet heat of his tongue.

Dave licks and mouths at Karkat's sheath, and it's sloppy, with absolutely no technique or rhythm, but he's moaning enthusiastically all the while. His tongue is just so sinfully soft and able to massage Karkat's nook in a way he could never manage himself, and it feels so, so _good._ He does nothing to mute the sounds of his moans and whimpers, burning ecstasy bringing him far beyond caring what he sounds like; he's barely aware of how everything between his legs is sopping wet with material. Then Dave shoves his tongue right in between the folds and Karkat keens, his body jerking as his bulge unsheathes, pulsing and in need of attention.

Dave's hand is on it immediately, his touch light enough that it does nothing more than drive Karkat out of his mind. He keeps his tongue on Karkat's nook, licking lightly at the place where his bulge is spreading it open and slips another two fingers into the space there, searching along Karkat's inner walls until he finds what he's looking for—Karkat's shame globes, which he then rubs one after the other in gentle, circular motions. Dave is touching Karkat at three different points now; all of them are so maddeningly soft and every time he looks down at Dave he sees red eyes blown wide and staring right back, watching Karkat eagerly as he squirms and writhes against Dave's hands and tongue.

Just like earlier Dave never speeds up or increases his pressure, instead bringing Karkat higher and higher with evenly paced rubs and strokes and sucks, and it's like a crackling fire licking at his core. Karkat shouts as all at once his body convulses and he comes hard, letting go of all the pressure that Dave just spent half an hour rubbing into him, genetic material shooting out with more force than it has all night. He watches Dave valiantly try to catch it all in his mouth, but most of it just soaks his front.

Dave gives Karkat's bulge a gentle kiss before it retracts slowly, making Karkat shiver amidst the pulsing aftershocks of his orgasm. He can't understand how Dave got so fucking good at this but most of his mind is dedicated to appreciating the overwhelming _relief._ So much that his face is cracked into a genuine smile when Dave crawls back up his body and he happily lets Dave give him a sloppy kiss, dripping chin and all.

Dave sits up so he's straddling Karkat's hips, lifting his arms up and looking down at the horrifying red splashed across his chest. "I'm like a fucking Pollock, V." He winks. "The only difference is I'm priceless."

"Shut up," Karkat groans, turning his head into the pillow.

Dave just laughs and descends on Karkat again, but this time Karkat notices the way Dave's bulge is stiff in his shorts and pressing into his thigh. He stares at Dave and gestures helplessly down at it, not sure what to offer or what he even has the energy to do to help. It doesn't matter though because Dave follows Karkat's gaze and quickly shakes his head. "I'm good," he says.

Karkat opens his mouth at that, only for Dave to shoot forward and plant a kiss on it before jumping off the bed and disappearing into the bathroom, leaving Karkat gaping. He thinks that Dave's probably just in a hurry to clean that disgusting mess off as quick as possible, but he tries not to let the thought dwell because like most thoughts that pass through his head, it's stupid. Karkat knows Dave loves him and definitely does not think any part of him is disgusting, he fucking _knows_ it.

Karkat is shifting around in bed, uncomfortably aware of the wetness beneath him and the stickiness between his legs when Dave strides back into the room a few minutes later, still covered in drying, translucent red.

"How 'bout a bath?" Dave asks. "I have the tub all ready for you, if you wanna come take a dip and make some dope watercolors. Well. Really just one watercolor."

"No, thanks," Karkat grumbles. He really does want a bath, but the idea of getting out of bed is almost inconceivable to him at this point. Every part of him feels strung out and useless, on top of being completely fucking filthy. Still, short of Dave carrying him, Karkat can't see himself leaving this bed anytime in the near future.

Like he can read Karkat's mind, Dave comes around to the side of the bed where Karkat is lying. "What if I carry you to the tub? You won't even have to move one sexed up finger."

"You are not carrying me to the bathroom."

Dave crosses his arms above Karkat. "Okay, then walk there."

Karkat glares at him. "No. But not because I can't," he says, "I just don't want to right now."

Dave smiles knowingly, and Karkat wants to punch him. "Kaaaaaaat," he sings, "As your responsible boyfriend slash heat caretaker of both sound body and mind, I can't in good conscience let you soak in your own grub batter for a week straight."

Fucker. Karkat doesn't say anything, crossing his arms in defeat. Dave cheers, and then Karkat's world is shifting as he's scooped up into the cradle of Dave's arms. Karkat presses the side of his face to Dave's chest as he's carried across the room and his face warms with embarrassment; he can feel Dave pressing kisses to his forehead, his hair, his horns.

"Okay, we're getting in."

Karkat blinks and sees the tub, filled with soapy water. Dave steps into it and sinks down, taking Karkat with him. Karkat braces just before the water touches his skin, but the temperature is perfect.

Double fucker.

Dave sits up against the back of the tub, positioning Karkat between his legs so he can drag a soft washcloth over Karkat's tired skin. Karkat shifts a little when something tickles at his thigh, and then he realizes it's the feeling of wet fabric against his skin.

"Why the fuck are you wearing underwear?"

"Listen, you can't plan for everything," Dave says, like it's an answer that makes any sense at all. Karkat can't bring himself to press the issue though, because Dave's repetitive motions are soothing and the water is wonderfully warm and Karkat can feel his muscles relaxing as he slowly slumps against Dave's chest. Dave hums into Karkat's hair, continuing with the washcloth while Karkat drifts slowly out of consciousness.

When Karkat wakes up he's in bed again, this time pleasantly fresh and dry. He's still naked, but there are clean towels beneath his back and the smell of soap and Dave in front of him, long limbs wrapped loosely around Karkat’s body. A warmth spreads through Karkat that has nothing to do with his heat, and everything to do with the human snuggling into his front. Karkat smiles into Dave's hair, and lets himself fall back asleep.

Heat is itching at Karkat's insides when he wakes up. Dave is already up beside him, sitting against the headboard and playing a game on his phone. He puts it down when Karkat turns and scoots himself over to Dave's body.

"Is it time?"

His voice is so gentle. Karkat squeezes his eyes shut and nods into Dave's chest, feeling pitiful, and he feels a thumb brush lightly over his cheek.

"I got you."

Karkat nods, teary eyed. It's bullshit—he knows that some of these emotions are a result of the hormone rampage is body is stubbornly set on, but he also knows that a lot of it is just genuinely him and the way he's constantly overwhelmed by the sheer happiness that is having Dave in his life, and intense gratitude that out of all trolls and even humans, Dave chose to love him.

Dave beckons him over with a shy look and presses his lips against the shell of Karkat's ear. "Can I fuck you?"

His words send a fiery ball of heat barreling into Karkat's nook and he nods quickly. Dave proceeds to lift his arm into a fist pump before shimmying out of his underwear without even getting off the bed.

In a few seconds Dave is pressing against Karkat's front again and he's swallowed by delicious heat and friction, and the soft kisses shared between their bodies. His bulge unsheathes, quickly finding the stiff line of Dave’s and curling lovingly around it. Dave’s unintelligible murmurs immediately morph into moans, and Karkat's not that far out of it that he can't enjoy the sight of Dave's eyes rolling into the back of his head and his mouth dropping into a surprised oval.

The sight has heat and need drumming against his insides, and he's thankful when Dave reaches down to separate their bulges. He pushes Karkat gently onto his side and quickly re-attaches himself to Karkat's back. One of his hands smooths up Karkat's thigh, lifting it so he can press in closer, and Karkat whines in anticipation.

Dave uses Karkat’s wetness to slip a finger into his chute and then, unbearably slowly, he drags it again and again around the rim. Dave eventually  adds a second finger, repeating his pattern, and it feels solid and steady and good, and Karkat is humming and completely relaxed against his fingers. Maybe too relaxed, because at a certain point something flips, and Karkat is overcome by a wave of sudden exhaustion. By the time Dave adds a third finger Karkat’s eyelids are drooping and he can feel himself slipping into that space between reality and sleep, his exhaustion so powerful that it's temporarily winning over his arousal. His body feels heavy, and the sensations Dave is creating just pile on top of him like heavy, heated blankets.

All of a sudden Dave's movements stop, his fingers withdrawing, and Karkat is jerked slightly closer to wakefulness.

"Dude, are you asleep?"

"Mmmhmmm."

"Oh," he says, and Karkat can hear the unspoken question in his voice.

Karkat twists his head to look at Dave. "I'm so tired I don't think I stay awake," he admits. "But can you um, keep going? So I can…"

Dave blinks slowly at Karkat before his face clears. "Oh shit, yes. Hell yes." He makes an okay gesture with his fingers. "The customer is always right, you want it, you got it. One slippity sleep fondle coming up."

Returning his head to the pillow, Karkat lets his eyes slip closed again, and after a second Dave is spreading his thighs apart and Karkat can feel the rounded tip of his bulge slick against him. Dave moves slow and dreamlike, softy panting in Karkat's ear and stamping kisses across his back, rocking him like the calmest of waves against a boat. Karkat lets go, relaxing into it until he feels limbless, like he's made of nothing but this floaty nebulous pleasure that fills him up like a gas, and then he doesn't feel anything at all.

When Karkat wakes up the clock on the bedside table tells him it's eight at night. Fucking impossibly though, he still feels so, so tired. Day one is always the hardest, he tells himself. Dave is snoring lightly next to him, naked. He assumes their blanket has been thrown to the floor somewhere, along with the soiled towels. He lets his eyes wander Dave's body; his bulge is small and soft and tinted a faint red that makes Karkat blush.

It's not long before Dave stirs, quickly looking to Karkat's face, and he feels a little pang of guilt for causing him so much worry.

"Do you need—"

"I'm fine," Karkat says quickly, interrupting him, and he gapes.

"Shit, awesome."

"Yeah, that last one must have been good," Karkat admits warily.

"Oh it was," Dave agrees. "Did you know that you're cute when you jizz in your sleep?"

Karkat swats him away like he's a stingbeast, before slumping back onto the pillows. "I promise this nightmare will be over in a couple of days."

"Karkat. Hey." Dave elbows his way closer on the bed, until he can grab the sides of Karkat's face and tilt it toward his. "This is the opposite of a nightmare. This is a dream, this is like Mariah Carey's sweet, sweet fantasy baby, I fucking love taking care of you. You don't even have to be in heat either, this is what I live for dude, this is it. Catch me out here in my Speedo, standing at the diving board and doing a stretch, getting ready to do a cannonball into that nooooooook."

He holds the word nook long enough that Karkat has time to knock his hands away, plug both ears with his fingers, and elbow Dave somewhere soft.

"Sorry," Dave says, but he's grinning. "I'm not even just talking sex stuff either. Basically, just get me a piece of bamboo because all I want to be doing always is spending some _koala_ -ty time with you."

His face instantly morphs into a grimace. "Okay, I admit that was bad."

"I much preferred it when you _were_ in my nook," Karkat grumbles. "At least then you couldn't talk."

Dave full out giggles, licking his lips. "Hell yes. But seriously, I—I like feeling needed I guess? And that you would trust me with this, to do this for you…" He trails off, smiling a small smile so genuine it clamps tightly onto Karkat's bloodpusher.

Karkat's face is hot and there's a swell of emotion at the top of his throat he can't push any words past yet, so he just blinks against the pressure behind his eyes, trying to fully take in Dave's words.

"I… Thank you," he manages eventually, and Dave gives him a careful kiss on the cheek before pulling him into an embrace.

"Love you always," Dave whispers.

"I love you too," Karkat responds quietly, and Dave squeezes him a little tighter.

Karkat smiles, feeling infinitely lighter despite the way Dave is holding him down. There's a tiny ache in his crotch, but he can ignore it for a few hours while his body gets more rest. It's weird, reconciling with his mind this still foreign concept—that he's allowed to want, to need, to ask. And the idea that Dave wants to help him, enjoys it even… It brings a wide smile to Karkat's face.

It's going to be a very long week, but unlike earlier Karkat's no longer dreading it. He settles into Dave's arms and lets his eyes slip shut once more, taking comfort in the fact that they'll be still be around him when he wakes.  

**Author's Note:**

> kick it with me on [tumblr](https://davekatprompts.tumblr.com/) or [pifo](https://www.pillowfort.io/suz)


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